Hastening to the spot where he had tied his horse to a tree, he vaulted into the saddle, and rode off across the fields,—for he was fearful of encountering the hostile party,—till he reached the Edgeware Road. He won’t have menservants inside the house, and his collection of carriages is only fit for a museum—where most of his friends ought to be, by-the-bye. “Why should one pretend? “Think of all the beauty in the world that is covered up and overlaid. It was a queer little bed-sitting-room almost in the roof, with a partition right across it.
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